It's Tuesday. Tuesday is psychotherapy day and in the past I have written about the butterflies in my stomach that seemed to be the size of pterodactyls as the awful hour approached. I used to try everything I could on a Friday morning to keep the anxiety under control but usually it was in vain.
When I was having psychotherapy with J last year I found that I rarely had any signs of anxiety until he called me into his office, at which point I would be overcome with such gut-wrenching anxiety that it was possible to see the physical effect that it was having on me. J always used to say that to see me like this made him feel as though he was torturing me.
But one thing I have noticed since I started group psychotherapy just a month ago is that there don't seem to be any particularly signs of anxiety at all. It still isn't the most comfortable experience in the world but there is no stomach churning, no feeling of butterflies, and definitely no pterodactyls.
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Tuesday, 22 February 2011
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
If It's Tuesday ...
... it must be psychotherapy. So this means that this crazy mixed up lady doesn't sleep well on a Monday night and wakes Tuesday morning with anxiety that makes doing even simple things time consuming.
I never eat breakfast on a Tuesday morning because I feel sick at the thought of it, just as I used to on a Friday morning when I was having psychotherapy before. I start to panic about making sure that I leave the house with plenty of time to make my appointment, allowing for problems with getting a bus that never materialise, and consequently arriving at the hospital long before my appointment time. I usually get myself a cup of tea at the little kiosk on the ground floor of the hospital, and if it isn't too cold or raining too hard, I make my way out to the hospital's little garden to drink my tea and have a cigarette.
The garden can be a tranquil place to pass the time for both patients and visitors. There are numerous squirrels that can be seen racing along the fences and onto the roof of the covered area in the far corner of the garden. A robin guards his territory from all comers and will ferociously attack any bird, no matter their size, if he thinks that they have come to take over his home ground. Sometimes the tranquility is broken by the squawking of parakeets that have become indigenous to the area.
Sometimes, and this morning was one such occasion, the tranquility is broken by shouting from the exercise area provided for the patients from the psychiatric intensive care unit; it is separated from the garden for the main part of the psychiatric hospital by the wooden fence of the hospital garden and the high wire fence around the exercise area. Today there was just one patient in the exercise area when I entered the garden and she was making sure that people knew she was there. The area behind the psychiatric and general hospitals is a park and is used as a short-cut by many people particularly those going to the hospitals from the local station and by others trying to shorten their journey to the local college and to a nearby comprehensive school. The patient in the exercise area spent about 10 minutes or more shouting to anybody that she could see, begging them to set her free or telling them to study hard. Eventually she was called back in from the area and quiet was again restored to the garden.
After having to race up to the fourth floor last week (which isn't easy for someone with an arthritic hip which plays up terribly in the cold) I was constantly looking at my watch this morning to make sure that I wasn't late. The consequence of this was that I arrived at the fourth floor 15 minutes early and then had to sit waiting for my psychologist to come to collect me and take me to his office. That meant 15 minutes for the calmness that I had manage to achieve sitting in the garden to disappear and 15 minutes for anxiety to take over; stomach-wrenching anxiety that was physically painful.
Today's session seemed to pass in a flash. My feelings changed from minute to minute; it was hard, it was painful, it was emotional, it was thought-provoking, I was frightened, I was anxious, I was angry. We talked about whether I saw it as a form of torture, for that is often what the expression on my face as I enter my psychologist's office seems to indicate. We talked about whether I felt that the therapy was working and we talked about why I find it so hard to stop turning my anger against myself.
There were moments this morning when I felt so angry that I felt as though I was going to explode, and one moment when I literally saw red. Yet, on leaving the hospital this morning I felt calm. I felt that although the session had been hard work that I had tried to engage in that work in a way that meant that I wasn't punishing myself. And at the end of it I had a sense of well-being that I don't think that I have ever felt before.
I'm sure that when next Tuesday arrives I shall be anxious as usual, but I also know that it is possible for me to work at the therapy and for it to help me to stop trying to martyr myself by directing feelings at myself when they should rightly be directed elsewhere.
I never eat breakfast on a Tuesday morning because I feel sick at the thought of it, just as I used to on a Friday morning when I was having psychotherapy before. I start to panic about making sure that I leave the house with plenty of time to make my appointment, allowing for problems with getting a bus that never materialise, and consequently arriving at the hospital long before my appointment time. I usually get myself a cup of tea at the little kiosk on the ground floor of the hospital, and if it isn't too cold or raining too hard, I make my way out to the hospital's little garden to drink my tea and have a cigarette.
The garden can be a tranquil place to pass the time for both patients and visitors. There are numerous squirrels that can be seen racing along the fences and onto the roof of the covered area in the far corner of the garden. A robin guards his territory from all comers and will ferociously attack any bird, no matter their size, if he thinks that they have come to take over his home ground. Sometimes the tranquility is broken by the squawking of parakeets that have become indigenous to the area.
Sometimes, and this morning was one such occasion, the tranquility is broken by shouting from the exercise area provided for the patients from the psychiatric intensive care unit; it is separated from the garden for the main part of the psychiatric hospital by the wooden fence of the hospital garden and the high wire fence around the exercise area. Today there was just one patient in the exercise area when I entered the garden and she was making sure that people knew she was there. The area behind the psychiatric and general hospitals is a park and is used as a short-cut by many people particularly those going to the hospitals from the local station and by others trying to shorten their journey to the local college and to a nearby comprehensive school. The patient in the exercise area spent about 10 minutes or more shouting to anybody that she could see, begging them to set her free or telling them to study hard. Eventually she was called back in from the area and quiet was again restored to the garden.
After having to race up to the fourth floor last week (which isn't easy for someone with an arthritic hip which plays up terribly in the cold) I was constantly looking at my watch this morning to make sure that I wasn't late. The consequence of this was that I arrived at the fourth floor 15 minutes early and then had to sit waiting for my psychologist to come to collect me and take me to his office. That meant 15 minutes for the calmness that I had manage to achieve sitting in the garden to disappear and 15 minutes for anxiety to take over; stomach-wrenching anxiety that was physically painful.
Today's session seemed to pass in a flash. My feelings changed from minute to minute; it was hard, it was painful, it was emotional, it was thought-provoking, I was frightened, I was anxious, I was angry. We talked about whether I saw it as a form of torture, for that is often what the expression on my face as I enter my psychologist's office seems to indicate. We talked about whether I felt that the therapy was working and we talked about why I find it so hard to stop turning my anger against myself.
There were moments this morning when I felt so angry that I felt as though I was going to explode, and one moment when I literally saw red. Yet, on leaving the hospital this morning I felt calm. I felt that although the session had been hard work that I had tried to engage in that work in a way that meant that I wasn't punishing myself. And at the end of it I had a sense of well-being that I don't think that I have ever felt before.
I'm sure that when next Tuesday arrives I shall be anxious as usual, but I also know that it is possible for me to work at the therapy and for it to help me to stop trying to martyr myself by directing feelings at myself when they should rightly be directed elsewhere.
Tuesday, 19 January 2010
Now I Can Get REALLY Anxious
I haven't written in this blog much about it, but I have applied for a job. It's just a temporary one on a 6-month contract. I'm not sure that I could, or even want to, work for longer than that. That may sound a strange thing to say but I live on pensions (four actually, two for my service in the RAF and the Civil Service, and two widow's pensions from the same organisations for my husband's service) and if I had a permanent job with a decent salary the tax man would take so much money from me that I would need to consider whether it was worth the effort to work.
But this job is different. It was tailor-made for me mainly because I am the person what actually suggested its creation. If I get it, then its mean being paid for 6 months to do something daily that at the moment I do on an irregular basis for free. That is, talking about why it is important for patients to have online access to their medical records and the benefits that can be accrued by it.
This morning I received an email inviting me for interview for the post. I have to go armed with a mass of paperwork proving who I am and that I have the qualifications that I claimed on my application. I can't really go armed with my degree diploma because it is framed, but fortunately my home page on the OU website gives me access to my academic achievement with the OU detailing what I studied for my degree and the qualification that I have as a result of that study.
That part doesn't worry too much, but I also have to dream up a 5-8 minute PowerPoint presentation to give at the interview and which has to be submitted the day before the interview. The subject of the presentation is obviously geared towards the job and worries me a lot more. It's not something that I have thought about and so I am going to have to put on my thinking cap over the next few days so that I can create something that shows off my talents with PowerPoint and that covers the question posed for the presentation.
Perhaps the thing that worries me most of all about all of this is that I have only had two job interviews before. The first was nearly 38 years ago when I applied to join the RAF, and the second was 18 years ago when I applied for a job with the Civil Service. I had a couple of promotion interviews while I was in the Civil Service, but that is not quite the same. So you can see that I am not exactly experienced in the job market and I don't deal with interviews very well.
I become a physical wreck. I get so nervous that I become nauseous and have been known to have to make a dash to the loo to throw up before an interview. I physically shake and the anxiety of what is to come builds daily while I am waiting for the interview to happen and then it doesn't dissipate until I have had the results. The thing that is making me anxious about it already is that the interview is next Tuesday, that I am the probably the first person to be interviewed because it is at 9am, and that after the interview I have to go for my psychotherapy session.
So, readers of this blog, I am asking a favour of you all. Will you all keep your fingers (and toes) crossed for me and send me positive vibes so that I can win this job? I really would appreciate it.
But this job is different. It was tailor-made for me mainly because I am the person what actually suggested its creation. If I get it, then its mean being paid for 6 months to do something daily that at the moment I do on an irregular basis for free. That is, talking about why it is important for patients to have online access to their medical records and the benefits that can be accrued by it.
This morning I received an email inviting me for interview for the post. I have to go armed with a mass of paperwork proving who I am and that I have the qualifications that I claimed on my application. I can't really go armed with my degree diploma because it is framed, but fortunately my home page on the OU website gives me access to my academic achievement with the OU detailing what I studied for my degree and the qualification that I have as a result of that study.
That part doesn't worry too much, but I also have to dream up a 5-8 minute PowerPoint presentation to give at the interview and which has to be submitted the day before the interview. The subject of the presentation is obviously geared towards the job and worries me a lot more. It's not something that I have thought about and so I am going to have to put on my thinking cap over the next few days so that I can create something that shows off my talents with PowerPoint and that covers the question posed for the presentation.
Perhaps the thing that worries me most of all about all of this is that I have only had two job interviews before. The first was nearly 38 years ago when I applied to join the RAF, and the second was 18 years ago when I applied for a job with the Civil Service. I had a couple of promotion interviews while I was in the Civil Service, but that is not quite the same. So you can see that I am not exactly experienced in the job market and I don't deal with interviews very well.
I become a physical wreck. I get so nervous that I become nauseous and have been known to have to make a dash to the loo to throw up before an interview. I physically shake and the anxiety of what is to come builds daily while I am waiting for the interview to happen and then it doesn't dissipate until I have had the results. The thing that is making me anxious about it already is that the interview is next Tuesday, that I am the probably the first person to be interviewed because it is at 9am, and that after the interview I have to go for my psychotherapy session.
So, readers of this blog, I am asking a favour of you all. Will you all keep your fingers (and toes) crossed for me and send me positive vibes so that I can win this job? I really would appreciate it.
Monday, 18 January 2010
Anxiety Relieved
My walk to the bus stop this morning was not alone as would be the norm; just as I stepped off the drive my next-door neighbour (actually she and her husband and kids live behind my house because I live on a corner of the road and their house is in the road that joins my road) came out of the house on her way to the local newsagent to pick up a newspaper. It was nice to be able to have a chat with someone as I walked along the road. I was lucky this morning (or unlucky depending which way you look at it) because the first of the two buses that I have to catch to get to the CMHT arrived almost immediately and when I changed buses I had only to wait for a minute after getting off the first one for the second to arrive. The net result of this was that I arrived 35 minutes early for my appointment with the HTT.
I didn't see the usual nurse this morning although the one I saw today I have seen before. He is much better than the nurse I normally see at getting the information that they need to ensure that I am keeping well and it doesn't seem like answering questions by rote. It was actually much more like having a proper conversation. This meant that I probably gave more information because we talked around the subject. They are very pleased with my progress and I was told that I should give myself a pat on the back for all that I have achieved since leaving hospital.
When the appointment was over (I was in there for an hour and yet it seemed like five minutes) I walked down the road to catch the bus to take me to the hospital so that I could attend my psychotherapy session. By the time that I went into the psychologist's office I was suffering terrible anxiety and I really didn't want to be there. We got to work immediately and, though it was very difficult for me, it was a good session. I know it was a good session because at the end of it I felt as though I had been put through a wringer, but as I walked along the road to the shops after leaving the hospital I realised that all the anxiety had gone and I was much more relaxed. It really is just the anticipation of what I know is going to happen that makes me so anxious.
By the time that I got to the main shopping area I realised that I was very hungry; it was about 1.15pm and I hadn't had anything to eat since last night so I got myself some lunch and then did the little bit of shopping that I needed and then headed for the bus stop to get the bus home. The nice postman left my parcel at the back door so I don't have to go to the sorting office to collect it tomorrow so I now have a couple of knitting books and three new games for my Nintendo DSi to look at this afternoon.
After a night with only a couple of hours sleep and the rigours of the therapy session I am going to relax for the rest of the day. I shall probably try for an early night tonight, I will definitely take my sleep medication, but before that happens I am going to look at my new books and play my new games. Then tomorrow I must sit down and write the short story for my final assignment on my OU course.
I didn't see the usual nurse this morning although the one I saw today I have seen before. He is much better than the nurse I normally see at getting the information that they need to ensure that I am keeping well and it doesn't seem like answering questions by rote. It was actually much more like having a proper conversation. This meant that I probably gave more information because we talked around the subject. They are very pleased with my progress and I was told that I should give myself a pat on the back for all that I have achieved since leaving hospital.
When the appointment was over (I was in there for an hour and yet it seemed like five minutes) I walked down the road to catch the bus to take me to the hospital so that I could attend my psychotherapy session. By the time that I went into the psychologist's office I was suffering terrible anxiety and I really didn't want to be there. We got to work immediately and, though it was very difficult for me, it was a good session. I know it was a good session because at the end of it I felt as though I had been put through a wringer, but as I walked along the road to the shops after leaving the hospital I realised that all the anxiety had gone and I was much more relaxed. It really is just the anticipation of what I know is going to happen that makes me so anxious.
By the time that I got to the main shopping area I realised that I was very hungry; it was about 1.15pm and I hadn't had anything to eat since last night so I got myself some lunch and then did the little bit of shopping that I needed and then headed for the bus stop to get the bus home. The nice postman left my parcel at the back door so I don't have to go to the sorting office to collect it tomorrow so I now have a couple of knitting books and three new games for my Nintendo DSi to look at this afternoon.
After a night with only a couple of hours sleep and the rigours of the therapy session I am going to relax for the rest of the day. I shall probably try for an early night tonight, I will definitely take my sleep medication, but before that happens I am going to look at my new books and play my new games. Then tomorrow I must sit down and write the short story for my final assignment on my OU course.
High Anxiety (Apologies To Mel Brooks)
It's been another night with little sleep. I didn't dare take the sleep medication because I had to be up early this morning to go to see both the HTT and my psychologist. I know why I didn't sleep; it was the overwhelming feeling of anxiety that started to come over me yesterday evening. This morning I am like a coiled spring and I feel that I am likely to explode at any moment.
This complete irrationality about talking about how I have been feeling over the last couple of weeks to the HTT ( I chickened out of last Monday's visit) and what is to come later when I am with psychologist is what makes my mental health problems so draining on me both physically and emotionally.
The silliest thing about the state which I find myself in is that I know exactly what is going to happen. It's not fear of the unknown that worries me but anticipation of what is about to occur.
This complete irrationality about talking about how I have been feeling over the last couple of weeks to the HTT ( I chickened out of last Monday's visit) and what is to come later when I am with psychologist is what makes my mental health problems so draining on me both physically and emotionally.
The silliest thing about the state which I find myself in is that I know exactly what is going to happen. It's not fear of the unknown that worries me but anticipation of what is about to occur.
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
Frustration
My mood, while not exactly brilliant, has been reasonably stable over the last few days, but sleep has been something else. I sleep well when I use medication to help, probably too well, but sleep badly when I don't.
I had a very successful day giving a presentation to GPs and Practice Managers for one of our Strategic Health Authorities last Wednesday, and then got roped in to talk to some high ranking people from most of the Strategic Health Authorities in England that evening. It made for a very long day, having left home at about 5.50am and not arriving back home again until 10.20pm, but I think it was worth it because they were all very interested in what I had to say about patients having access to their GP medical records online. I am due to give another presentation in a couple of weeks, this time to my local Primary Care Trust, and in September I will be making a presentation and taking part in a discussion at the Department of Health.
I am always very nervous and anxious for a couple of days before each of these events, but a bit like an old trouper on the stage, once the spotlight is on me I seem to be able to hold my own in front of the audience and I always get super feedback from those who attend the presentations. It seems that hearing things from a patient makes a big difference to their appreciation of the subject. After these events I then suffer a real adrenalin high that lasts for 24-48 hours, almost like a manic period, before crashing back down into depression. Fortunately, the collapse into depression has not been so severe this time, but neither has it been a bed of roses.
My knitting has been causing me some problems over the last week or so. After having had some problems that resulted in me having to unpick a few rows, I managed to get back on track and was progressing well. Then, on Sunday, I discovered an error which required me to have to unpick some rows again. Only one and a half rows this time but it was annoying all the same. I had only six more rows to knit until I got to the end of the main part of the shawl and could start on the edging (the pattern for which I still have to create). I decided to take a break from the knitting yesterday, but started work on the unpicking today, corrected the mistake and then was progressing well until I found that I had one stitch too many in a particular part of the pattern which was obvious and would require me to start unpicking again. This time it needs about five rows to be unpicked so this is going to be a long job.
Hence the frustration. It seems that this shawl is determined to cause me as many problems as it possibly can before I finish it. I'll see how I am feeling tomorrow before deciding to do any work on it. At times I feel like pulling the needle out and unravelling the lot but I know that this is silly and I would regret it the moment that I started doing it.
I may be feeling frustrated by it, even despairing a little, but I am not that desperate yet.
I had a very successful day giving a presentation to GPs and Practice Managers for one of our Strategic Health Authorities last Wednesday, and then got roped in to talk to some high ranking people from most of the Strategic Health Authorities in England that evening. It made for a very long day, having left home at about 5.50am and not arriving back home again until 10.20pm, but I think it was worth it because they were all very interested in what I had to say about patients having access to their GP medical records online. I am due to give another presentation in a couple of weeks, this time to my local Primary Care Trust, and in September I will be making a presentation and taking part in a discussion at the Department of Health.
I am always very nervous and anxious for a couple of days before each of these events, but a bit like an old trouper on the stage, once the spotlight is on me I seem to be able to hold my own in front of the audience and I always get super feedback from those who attend the presentations. It seems that hearing things from a patient makes a big difference to their appreciation of the subject. After these events I then suffer a real adrenalin high that lasts for 24-48 hours, almost like a manic period, before crashing back down into depression. Fortunately, the collapse into depression has not been so severe this time, but neither has it been a bed of roses.
My knitting has been causing me some problems over the last week or so. After having had some problems that resulted in me having to unpick a few rows, I managed to get back on track and was progressing well. Then, on Sunday, I discovered an error which required me to have to unpick some rows again. Only one and a half rows this time but it was annoying all the same. I had only six more rows to knit until I got to the end of the main part of the shawl and could start on the edging (the pattern for which I still have to create). I decided to take a break from the knitting yesterday, but started work on the unpicking today, corrected the mistake and then was progressing well until I found that I had one stitch too many in a particular part of the pattern which was obvious and would require me to start unpicking again. This time it needs about five rows to be unpicked so this is going to be a long job.
Hence the frustration. It seems that this shawl is determined to cause me as many problems as it possibly can before I finish it. I'll see how I am feeling tomorrow before deciding to do any work on it. At times I feel like pulling the needle out and unravelling the lot but I know that this is silly and I would regret it the moment that I started doing it.
I may be feeling frustrated by it, even despairing a little, but I am not that desperate yet.
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
On Tenterhooks
I'm sitting at home waiting for it to be a reasonable time for me to set out to go to a medical educational establishment in London. It's not the first time that I have been there so I know how to find it, and the presentation that I am to give (three times) is one that I am very familiar with having delivered it a number of times over the last eight months. But familiarity with my subject does not stop me from being very nervous.
I have been booked to give these presentations since my first foray into talking to doctors about the benefits of patients having access to their medical records. It is not yet a year since a chance conversation with my GP led to him asking if I would be willing to talk about my experience with being able to access my medical records online, something that was pioneered by the GP practice that I am with. I described my feelings about that first experience here and here. Since then I have given several more presentations on the subject, and I even feature as a voice over on an online demonstration of what I, as a patient, can see on my medical records and the benefits that can accrue from this.
For those readers who may not have read all my previous posts, I should say at this point that giving presentations at large international conferences was something that I did regularly when I was working. And the delegates at those conferences could be pretty difficult to deal with as it was possible that I was saying things that went totally against their beliefs in the subject areas that I dealt with. But familiarity with my subjects and confidence in my analysis meant that I could deal with hostile questioning without hesitation. However, the severe depression that I suffered from, and which caused me to have to take early retirement on medical grounds, has left me with a complete lack of confidence in myself and I was very nervous about speaking in public again even though my GP reassured me that the audience of doctors would be kind to me.
On the first occasion that I gave the presentation everything that could go wrong, did. It was planned that I would do the presentation using the live system to show how easy it was to use. Unfortunately, between setting everything up for the demonstration and actually having to stand up in front of the audience of doctors, the server at my GP's surgery went down, so no live records, and it became necessary for me to make the presentation using screen shots of the system which I had only seen once and the order of which I was not altogether certain.
Since then I have developed a PowerPoint presentation that allows me to give the presentation tailored to the audience and time available to me. There are nice transitions between the slides, and some nice refinements that have been built in as a result of the sort of questions that the presentation generally elicits. I am familiar with the order of the slides, I know what I have to say about each of them, and I have a slide at the end which sums up the benefits to the patient that such access allows. I know from experience that doctors are a nice audience to make a presentation to and they are especially appreciative of the opportunity to hear the patient's view on the subject.
Yet, I still have butterflies the size of pterodactyls blundering their way about my stomach and an attack of the shakes that would make a withdrawing alcoholic look steady as a rock.
I have been booked to give these presentations since my first foray into talking to doctors about the benefits of patients having access to their medical records. It is not yet a year since a chance conversation with my GP led to him asking if I would be willing to talk about my experience with being able to access my medical records online, something that was pioneered by the GP practice that I am with. I described my feelings about that first experience here and here. Since then I have given several more presentations on the subject, and I even feature as a voice over on an online demonstration of what I, as a patient, can see on my medical records and the benefits that can accrue from this.
For those readers who may not have read all my previous posts, I should say at this point that giving presentations at large international conferences was something that I did regularly when I was working. And the delegates at those conferences could be pretty difficult to deal with as it was possible that I was saying things that went totally against their beliefs in the subject areas that I dealt with. But familiarity with my subjects and confidence in my analysis meant that I could deal with hostile questioning without hesitation. However, the severe depression that I suffered from, and which caused me to have to take early retirement on medical grounds, has left me with a complete lack of confidence in myself and I was very nervous about speaking in public again even though my GP reassured me that the audience of doctors would be kind to me.
On the first occasion that I gave the presentation everything that could go wrong, did. It was planned that I would do the presentation using the live system to show how easy it was to use. Unfortunately, between setting everything up for the demonstration and actually having to stand up in front of the audience of doctors, the server at my GP's surgery went down, so no live records, and it became necessary for me to make the presentation using screen shots of the system which I had only seen once and the order of which I was not altogether certain.
Since then I have developed a PowerPoint presentation that allows me to give the presentation tailored to the audience and time available to me. There are nice transitions between the slides, and some nice refinements that have been built in as a result of the sort of questions that the presentation generally elicits. I am familiar with the order of the slides, I know what I have to say about each of them, and I have a slide at the end which sums up the benefits to the patient that such access allows. I know from experience that doctors are a nice audience to make a presentation to and they are especially appreciative of the opportunity to hear the patient's view on the subject.
Yet, I still have butterflies the size of pterodactyls blundering their way about my stomach and an attack of the shakes that would make a withdrawing alcoholic look steady as a rock.
Thursday, 26 February 2009
The Big Day
I'm sitting in my dressing gown waiting for my hair to dry (it should only take a few more minutes because it is short) before getting myself dressed ready to travel across London to face the ordeal. Actually, that's not fair because I do not really see today as being an ordeal.
I have written what I hope is an informative lecture on what it is like to go through therapy. Some of it has been written at a cost of some pain. Thinking about my first encounter with therapy, and the feelings that it caused me to have, meant that I had to leave the writing for a few days to forget about how horrible that experience had been. Reading it through later, and talking about it with Mr Smiley when we met for lunch last week, showed me that this part of the lecture was likely to cause me to become a little emotional and that the possibility of this happening meant that I would have to change the introduction so that the students would understand why I might suddenly get a lump in my throat or need to grab for a tissue or two.
For the experience of the therapy that I am going through now, I have not had to think about what it has been like and write about it because I have already done that. The second part of the lecture is based on emails that I have written to Mr Smiley and posts from this blog. As a result, what I say in this part of the lecture is much more 'of the moment' because the material was written within hours of the session that it refers to. By using this approach, the lecture is probably a truer reflection of what it is like to experience therapy than would have been possible if I had sat down and written about months after the event. At least, I hope that is how it comes across.
I didn't manage much sleep last night, so there's no surprise there, however, I am not feeling anywhere near as anxious as I thought I would be. Actually, I'm feeling rather calm, which worries me a little. But I will set out in a little while, armed with my folder containing the lecture, plus a memory stick with it in digital form in my handbag (definitely a belt and braces approach for me today), and walk to the bus stop to start my journey across London in the rush hour. I'll let you know how things went later.
Now, remind me again, why did I say that I would never come back to live in London?
I have written what I hope is an informative lecture on what it is like to go through therapy. Some of it has been written at a cost of some pain. Thinking about my first encounter with therapy, and the feelings that it caused me to have, meant that I had to leave the writing for a few days to forget about how horrible that experience had been. Reading it through later, and talking about it with Mr Smiley when we met for lunch last week, showed me that this part of the lecture was likely to cause me to become a little emotional and that the possibility of this happening meant that I would have to change the introduction so that the students would understand why I might suddenly get a lump in my throat or need to grab for a tissue or two.
For the experience of the therapy that I am going through now, I have not had to think about what it has been like and write about it because I have already done that. The second part of the lecture is based on emails that I have written to Mr Smiley and posts from this blog. As a result, what I say in this part of the lecture is much more 'of the moment' because the material was written within hours of the session that it refers to. By using this approach, the lecture is probably a truer reflection of what it is like to experience therapy than would have been possible if I had sat down and written about months after the event. At least, I hope that is how it comes across.
I didn't manage much sleep last night, so there's no surprise there, however, I am not feeling anywhere near as anxious as I thought I would be. Actually, I'm feeling rather calm, which worries me a little. But I will set out in a little while, armed with my folder containing the lecture, plus a memory stick with it in digital form in my handbag (definitely a belt and braces approach for me today), and walk to the bus stop to start my journey across London in the rush hour. I'll let you know how things went later.
Now, remind me again, why did I say that I would never come back to live in London?
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
Stage Fright And A Request For Help
Tomorrow is the big day and I have started to develop a bad case of anxiety. I still have a little work to do on the lecture, but it is mostly cosmetic in nature, and I also have to finish off the PowerPoint slides but that won't take much more than half an hour to do and is mostly a matter of copying and pasting information and then changing font sizes or adding in a few words. None of it is going to stretch my intellectual or computer skills. Which is just as well because I only had a couple of hours sleep last night, and the night before, and I am not overly optimistic about how much I shall get tonight.
The strange thing is that although I am building up to a truly horrendous case of stage fright, I am also rather looking forward to giving this lecture. It is the subject matter that made me agree to this in the first place; the user's experience of therapy. The mere fact that a 'user' is being asked to talk to people who are going to be among the therapists of the future to explain what it is like to go through therapy seems almost unbelievable.
Writing the material for the lecture has proven to be quite traumatic at times. My first experience of therapy was not good, and led to me distrusting therapy and therapists as a valid means of getting relief from depression. I have to say that the psychodynamic psychotherapy that I am undergoing at present has helped to change my mind about that. And the reason that I have changed my opinion is because of the massive difference in the therapeutic relationship that I have with my current psychotherapist compared with that which I had with my first one.
One of the things that I have been asked to provide for the students is a list of reading material giving a user perspective on therapy. The problem is that I have not read any books that are written by users; all the literature out there seems to be written by psychiatrists and psychologists and the books are written for the therapist, although some do provide a little useful information for the person who will be undergoing therapy. This is rather a sad state of affairs because it means that the patient/client/user (whatever they may be called) starts off at a disadvantage. They have no clear idea of what the therapy is going to be like, what they will be expected to do, and the kind of effects that it may have on them. I believe that this is part of the reason that so many people give up on therapy when they do actually manage to get it. Nobody bothers to tell us that the process is going to be difficult and that there are going to be times when we feel very uncomfortable talking about things with someone who is a stranger to us.
When I was discussing this with 'S' when we met a couple of weeks ago, he suggested that I might consider writing that book that doesn't seem to be out there at the moment. And it is something that I am seriously considering. It won't be a massive tome, nor will it be particularly learned, but if it can help people to understand what therapy can and cannot do, and help them to prepare themselves for the therapy experience, then it will be worth the effort.
The reason that I am writing about this, is that I need the help of fellow bloggers who have had the experience of therapy whether it be good or bad, and it doesn't matter what sort of therapy it has been. In fact the wider the range of types of therapy the better as far as I am concerned because then it will be possible to help more people. I know that bloggers who write about their mental health problems embrace the anonymity that blogging allows, and I am no different in this. I would like to ask any blogger who would be willing to help me in this enterprise to either contact me by submitting a comment to this post or by emailing me at madsadgirl@gmail.com. Because all comments on my blog are moderated, anyone who offers to help by submitting a comment can be assured that their comment will not be published if they ask for it not to be.
The strange thing is that although I am building up to a truly horrendous case of stage fright, I am also rather looking forward to giving this lecture. It is the subject matter that made me agree to this in the first place; the user's experience of therapy. The mere fact that a 'user' is being asked to talk to people who are going to be among the therapists of the future to explain what it is like to go through therapy seems almost unbelievable.
Writing the material for the lecture has proven to be quite traumatic at times. My first experience of therapy was not good, and led to me distrusting therapy and therapists as a valid means of getting relief from depression. I have to say that the psychodynamic psychotherapy that I am undergoing at present has helped to change my mind about that. And the reason that I have changed my opinion is because of the massive difference in the therapeutic relationship that I have with my current psychotherapist compared with that which I had with my first one.
One of the things that I have been asked to provide for the students is a list of reading material giving a user perspective on therapy. The problem is that I have not read any books that are written by users; all the literature out there seems to be written by psychiatrists and psychologists and the books are written for the therapist, although some do provide a little useful information for the person who will be undergoing therapy. This is rather a sad state of affairs because it means that the patient/client/user (whatever they may be called) starts off at a disadvantage. They have no clear idea of what the therapy is going to be like, what they will be expected to do, and the kind of effects that it may have on them. I believe that this is part of the reason that so many people give up on therapy when they do actually manage to get it. Nobody bothers to tell us that the process is going to be difficult and that there are going to be times when we feel very uncomfortable talking about things with someone who is a stranger to us.
When I was discussing this with 'S' when we met a couple of weeks ago, he suggested that I might consider writing that book that doesn't seem to be out there at the moment. And it is something that I am seriously considering. It won't be a massive tome, nor will it be particularly learned, but if it can help people to understand what therapy can and cannot do, and help them to prepare themselves for the therapy experience, then it will be worth the effort.
The reason that I am writing about this, is that I need the help of fellow bloggers who have had the experience of therapy whether it be good or bad, and it doesn't matter what sort of therapy it has been. In fact the wider the range of types of therapy the better as far as I am concerned because then it will be possible to help more people. I know that bloggers who write about their mental health problems embrace the anonymity that blogging allows, and I am no different in this. I would like to ask any blogger who would be willing to help me in this enterprise to either contact me by submitting a comment to this post or by emailing me at madsadgirl@gmail.com. Because all comments on my blog are moderated, anyone who offers to help by submitting a comment can be assured that their comment will not be published if they ask for it not to be.
Monday, 9 February 2009
Trying Again!
With a bit of luck I should be meeting 'S' today. After the slight disaster last week when he forgot to phone me to tell me that he was stuck at home because of snow so wouldn't be able to meet me, hopefully today will be a little more successful.
I'm feeling a little anxious again today, but nothing like last week. I suppose that part of the reason that I am not so bad is because I know how to get to my destination this time, having carried out what turned out to be a dummy run last Thursday.
Considering that I am a London girl born and bred, I do find travelling about a very anxious experience. I suppose it is having spent more than 30 years away from London that makes me this way; at a time when I should have been visiting the hot spots and the super shopping areas that London has, I was living in the country, much of it in a small village. It's not just travelling in London that I find induces anxiety. I'm like it wherever I travel to, and at airports I am an absolute nightmare, not being able to stop looking at my watch or stay in a seat for more than five minutes at a time. This is all made worse by the fact that I have a thing about making sure that I am never late, so I always arrive anywhere much earlier than I need to so add to the problems of waiting at airports. I've travelled the world, very often on my own, and yet I still cannot stop being like this.
However, this morning I shall leave the house a little later than I did on Thursday and hopefully I won't have too long to wait for 'S' when I arrive in reception. I can almost hear his apologies for Thursday as I sit here typing this. One nice thing about today is that 'S' is taking me out to lunch to make up for Thursday, and I do think that this might make the meeting a slightly less anxiety-inducing occurrence. It's so much easier to chat over food.
I'm feeling a little anxious again today, but nothing like last week. I suppose that part of the reason that I am not so bad is because I know how to get to my destination this time, having carried out what turned out to be a dummy run last Thursday.
Considering that I am a London girl born and bred, I do find travelling about a very anxious experience. I suppose it is having spent more than 30 years away from London that makes me this way; at a time when I should have been visiting the hot spots and the super shopping areas that London has, I was living in the country, much of it in a small village. It's not just travelling in London that I find induces anxiety. I'm like it wherever I travel to, and at airports I am an absolute nightmare, not being able to stop looking at my watch or stay in a seat for more than five minutes at a time. This is all made worse by the fact that I have a thing about making sure that I am never late, so I always arrive anywhere much earlier than I need to so add to the problems of waiting at airports. I've travelled the world, very often on my own, and yet I still cannot stop being like this.
However, this morning I shall leave the house a little later than I did on Thursday and hopefully I won't have too long to wait for 'S' when I arrive in reception. I can almost hear his apologies for Thursday as I sit here typing this. One nice thing about today is that 'S' is taking me out to lunch to make up for Thursday, and I do think that this might make the meeting a slightly less anxiety-inducing occurrence. It's so much easier to chat over food.
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
Anxiety, Depression, And Writing An Essay (Or Not)
I should be writing an essay at the moment but I cannot raise any enthusiasm for it. I have a few ideas of things that I want to include in it but it's being able to find the words to express what I want to say that is causing the problem. I'm not sure whether it is the material that I have to work with and the subject of the essay itself that are causing the problems or whether it is because of the way that I am feeling.
I have not been sleeping well; I drop off to sleep all right but wake in the early hours of the morning and I am just not able to get back to sleep again. This doesn't help much with my mood, and at this moment in time I can feeling it getting lower. I've had a little crying session this morning and I have absolutely no idea why it happened.
I'm also starting to get anxious about a meeting that I am going to have tomorrow with the Senior Lecturer for the course that I will doing a lecture for in a few weeks time. No matter how much I tell myself that I have nothing to worry about, I can't help but get anxious. I want to give this lecture, I think that I can do quite a good job with it, and in a strange way I am quite looking forward to it, but it doesn't stop me getting very anxious about meeting someone new and having to talk about myself.
I have not been sleeping well; I drop off to sleep all right but wake in the early hours of the morning and I am just not able to get back to sleep again. This doesn't help much with my mood, and at this moment in time I can feeling it getting lower. I've had a little crying session this morning and I have absolutely no idea why it happened.
I'm also starting to get anxious about a meeting that I am going to have tomorrow with the Senior Lecturer for the course that I will doing a lecture for in a few weeks time. No matter how much I tell myself that I have nothing to worry about, I can't help but get anxious. I want to give this lecture, I think that I can do quite a good job with it, and in a strange way I am quite looking forward to it, but it doesn't stop me getting very anxious about meeting someone new and having to talk about myself.
Friday, 7 November 2008
Butterflies
It's Friday morning and I have the usual butterflies in the stomach. Actually, they are more the size of pterodactyls and I can feel them banging and crashing around inside me. It really is quite bizarre and by this time I ought to be able to cope with my Friday morning psychotherapy sessions without falling prey to these terrors.
I think that I know why I am feeling like this. I am going to try and start talking as soon as we get settled in the room, like I did last week. It is this that is preying on my mind and causing high levels of anxiety. I have also realised that it is getting into this state that is sometimes the trigger for a period of depression. Knowing that, I am able to tell myself that I really don't have any reason to get depressed and that I must just try to get through the day without worrying too much about anything.
So when I get back from the hospital, I will have something to eat, sit down and reread my TMA and if I am happy with it I will send it off to my tutor. The rest of the afternoon will be some 'me' time. I shall sit down with my knitting and watch a DVD or two, and just try to relax. I have a busy week ahead and there are two really big things occurring on Wednesday and Saturday, which will require me to cope with situations that I usually find so difficult. I'll let you know how things go later.
Monday, 1 September 2008
I Was Having A Good Day
Yes, I was having a good day. The sun was shining when I woke up (which considering how the weather has been in August was almost a minor miracle), it was my birthday (although they are not so much fun as you get older), and I had decided that I would have a relaxing day and not do anything that in any way smacked of being a chore. That is exactly how the day went, until about half an hour ago.
It's not just that birthdays aren't much fun as you get older, they're not much fun when you are on your own either. I was thinking of having a glass of wine by way of a celebration, but I thought that I might be a bit silly and drink the whole bottle, and that really is not a sensible thing to do. I didn't have my lunch until quite late, so I don't want anything to eat now therefore it isn't even worth considering going out for a meal.
And now that my day is almost over, the thing that I didn't want to think about is at the forefront of my mind. The change that was made to my anti-depressant a few weeks back did seem to have been making a difference to how I felt. My level of anxiety had definitely subsided to something that was more reasonable, and I wasn't feeling so depressed as I normally do at this time of year. But suddenly that has changed. The tears have started to flow and life isn't as bearable as it was earlier today. Still, I shall do what I always do. I will try to keep my mind occupied, I shall try to focus on one thing at a time and not get too frustrated when it takes me forever to do even the simplest things.
And I will keep telling myself that things won't be so bad once Saturday is out of the way.
It's not just that birthdays aren't much fun as you get older, they're not much fun when you are on your own either. I was thinking of having a glass of wine by way of a celebration, but I thought that I might be a bit silly and drink the whole bottle, and that really is not a sensible thing to do. I didn't have my lunch until quite late, so I don't want anything to eat now therefore it isn't even worth considering going out for a meal.
And now that my day is almost over, the thing that I didn't want to think about is at the forefront of my mind. The change that was made to my anti-depressant a few weeks back did seem to have been making a difference to how I felt. My level of anxiety had definitely subsided to something that was more reasonable, and I wasn't feeling so depressed as I normally do at this time of year. But suddenly that has changed. The tears have started to flow and life isn't as bearable as it was earlier today. Still, I shall do what I always do. I will try to keep my mind occupied, I shall try to focus on one thing at a time and not get too frustrated when it takes me forever to do even the simplest things.
And I will keep telling myself that things won't be so bad once Saturday is out of the way.
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